Thursday, July 10, 2008

An existentialist question

If I am dust in the air
a dry cough
aimless, drawn to pieces
animated by
the relentless pull of wind

then who are you?


Rachel Westfall
July 10, 2008

6 comments:

Kyddryn said...

The light that reflects from your motes, refracts, prisms, scatters, coalesces, collects you, absorbs you, bounces to someone else, splits apart, becomes them, you, me, us, scatters far and wide, collecting, collecting, until we are we, no me, no you, no one, all.

Shade and Sweetwater,
K

mike-mike said...

Who are we, I ask?

Who knows? An illusion perhaps.

Dust, air, water, sunhine, other than human. Why not? We should be so gifted to be other than human.

I am the WOLF seeking to be free to search for and choose his own soul mate--to live wild and free and to pass on where I was born--in the wild. In the arms of my mother nature--back to nature so I can return again and again until I learn and understand life--true life. And then, only then may I sour beyond my imagination--beyond my present awareness.

I am/was/will be again the wolf in the wild--the WOLF in the heavens!!

I am the wind, the dust, the sun, the breath of Life (aren't we all?).

I am the past, I am the present, I Am The Future, perhaps.

I am the wildness in your heart!

And who are you, Beautiful?!

Ciao ;)

RachelW said...

Ah beautiful... both of you.... I should pose a question in my poems more often! ;)

mike g said...

Sent to me by a 'Angel' :)...
*Love & Light*
***********************************

I spent millons of years in the world
of inorganic things
as a star, as a rock...
Then I died and became a plant--
Forgetting my former existence
because of its otherness
Then I died and became an animal--
Forgetting my life as a plant
except for inclinations in the season
of spring and sweet herbs--
like the inclination of babes
toward their mother's breast
Then I died and became a human
My intelligence ripened, awakening
from greed and self-seeking
to become wise and knowing
I behold a hundred thousand
intelligences most marvelous
and remember my former states
and inclinations
And when I die again
I will soar past the angels
to places I cannot imagine
Now, what have I ever lost by dying?

Rumi

RachelW said...

Such beautiful Rumi! It's lovely to read it again.

RachelW said...

WolfMan; the poem I wished to share with you is here:

http://rogueprose.blogspot.com/2008/06/draft.html